


i'd give you the moon

by graceana



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Strangers/Friends to Lovers, also this fic - the tradition - is me in so many way s, holiday fic, it doesn't seem like a holiday fic but it is i promise, it's a wonderful life is my fav christmas movie ever okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceana/pseuds/graceana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry transfers to manchester university and louis has a tradition</p><p> </p><p> <em>It’s fun, and relaxing, and Louis has never felt so comfortable around someone who he’s known for less than two months. And he knows he says that a lot but its just so, undeniably true that he can’t help but keep repeating himself. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	i'd give you the moon

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to those holiday/family traditions that don't happen anymore, and to the new traditions you start
> 
> disclaimer: i've never taken a soc 101 class before so if the one question i pose in the fic is wrong for that class i'm sorry.
> 
> thank you to my [spouse](http://ambiglouis.tumblr.com/) for reading this along the way and editing it through screenshots :p i love you.x 
> 
> this fic is essentially a rewrite of one of the very first fics i ever wrote and i was gonna do it last year but couldn't figure it out, but now here we are. any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. enjoy!! .x

Louis has always been a very curious and observant person. He may also be very loud and obnoxious but just because he sort of likes to have everyone’s attention on him doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice what’s going on in his surroundings.

That’s why the minute Louis walks into his Sociology class that day, bag draped across his chest, hair sticking up in all directions from the bloody wind, he knows something is up. He’s not entirely sure what at first, but the air in the room is definitely charged with something.

Taking a sip of tea from his very professional silver travel mug, he makes his way towards the back of the classroom and sits down in his usual seat. His seat is in prime observing territory. He can see both entrances on either side of the classroom – one for the students and one that leads to their professor’s office – he can see every person that’s in the class, which is a fair few. The only person that Louis always has trouble keeping an eye on is the boy who sits at the very end of his row, who always sleeps with his hood-covered head on his bag.

The semester is only about two months in, his classes going rather smoothly and giving him little to no hassle as of yet. This class in particular isn’t horrible, it’s the biggest class he has this semester, the only lectured sized one since it’s a 101 class, but other than it’s enormity it’s interesting and doesn’t cause him much stress.

Sociology 101, the last prerequisite he needs to finally finish up the rest of his degree without any roadblocks.

The professor is running late, as usual, and right before the small, grey-haired man bustles through the door, Louis finally catches what has the room feeling so electrified.

He’s unsure as of why he didn’t notice before, but there are gaggles of girls and boys alike glancing towards him, or well, in his general direction. He side eyes them curiously until a boy two rows in front of him removes the navy blue beanie from his head, letting loose curls fall just a couple inches short of his shoulders.

Initially, it’s the movement that catches Louis’ eye but now that his attention is focused on the new boy in the class, he can’t help but burn holes into the back of the poor boy’s head.

He can’t see his face, actually can only assume the person is a boy from the broadness of their back and the largeness of their hands, which are now fumbling in a bag, probably searching for a pen or tucking away his beanie.

This _person’s_ hair is quite lengthy; it’s curly and luscious looking and this gorgeous shade of brown. Honestly, Louis hasn’t really ever cared about hair, doesn’t really have a preference, but after seeing this person’s curly mane he thinks curls might be a new thing for him. They just look springy and fun to yank at, playfully or purposefully.

Besides the fact that Louis now has some insane notion of wanting to _run his fingers through a stranger’s hair_ just to see if it’s as soft as it looks, he is now very very curious to find out who this new person is and why they’re joining the class so late into the semester.

And like Louis’ already said, he’s curious but also observant, so really the only logically thing to do here is stealthy, and non-creepily, observe this mysterious person until they seem comfortable enough in their new environment and then Louis will attack. Cutely, of course.

❊

Louis has been taking careful notice to the new boy in his class since the very first day he arrived.

And, yes, Louis can now confirm that the new person is in fact a boy because after that first day Louis may have fumbled around a little longer to watch said boy shyly walk up to the professor and start talking.

It’s been about a week or so since the boy’s arrival, and since then he hasn’t talked to or made any effort to get to know anyone within the class. And Louis isn’t saying that’s a bad thing, some people are just naturally quiet and prefer not to socialize, he would know since one of his best mates is exactly like that. But, this boy doesn’t necessarily seem like the introverted type, though Louis really shouldn’t assume or judge.

Currently, the boy is tapping his pen against the small expanse of desk they have. It’s something Louis has noticed he does when the professor has proposed a new question or inquiry to the topic at hand.

There are many things Louis has noticed about Mystery Boy since he’s arrived. Like for one, he almost always wears a beanie until he sits down in his seat – the same one two rows in front of Louis. Two, he messes with his hair. A lot. Whether he’s yanking at it with his pointer finger, shaking it out with full sweeping motions or just peacefully twirling a curl around his very long fingers.

When the boy finally stops tapping his pen, he adjusts his body in his seat and coughs into his hand before hunching over the desk and scribbling something down in his notebook. It’s only then that Louis realises their professor has proposed some sort of question for them to answer.

Good thing he was totally paying attention.

❊

Turns out, Louis has no self-control.

He sort of already knew this, but this only proves it to himself further.

He had a plan on how to introduce himself to Sociology Stranger. He was going to wait until after class, ask if he could borrow the boys notes to copy down because he’d dozed off and missed a rather large part of their lecture; he had it planned out to the last second. But now as he walks into the large room and sees the boy doodling in his notebook, he fucks off on his plan and slides down until he’s in the seat right next to Mystery Boy and plops himself on the chair.

"Hi," Louis says happily. Hopefully he doesn’t seem overeager. He just likes meeting new people, that’s all.

The boy glances at him sideways, like he’s trying to acknowledge Louis without _actually_ showing that he is acknowledging him.

All right, so Mystery Boy is shy.

“You’re new,” Louis says kindly. He softens his expression into something that hopefully conveys ‘I just want to be your friend’ and ‘I promise I’m not creepy.’

The boy nods, while scribbling in his notebook.

Louis is about to ask the boy’s name when their professor comes rushing in through his office. “Page 89, read the first two paragraphs,” he states, sounding agitated.

The boy is already rustling through their Sociology book and scanning over the correct page before Louis even gets his book from his bag; he sighs.

He tries to read the short paragraphs but he just can’t concentrate because there’s a cute, shy boy next to him who keeps biting at his pen cap. God, Louis is a poor excuse for a human being at the moment.

Suddenly, an idea hits him. It’s totally middle school but who cares, right?

He rips a piece of paper out of his notebook and scribbles ‘ _what’s your name?’_ on it before sliding it over onto the shy boy’s book.

Looking startled, the boy shoots Louis a wide-eyed look before grabbing the paper and reading over it. He looks hesitant to answer, like he’s unsure if Louis has ulterior motives or something. Smiling as sweetly and softly as he can, Louis glances at the paper and then back up to the boy’s soft green eyes.

 _Harry._ The boy slides the note back with the name scribbled on it, a shy smile taking over his face as he drops his pen in the space between their desks.

Holding back a small giggle, Louis picks up the pen and scrawls ‘ _I’m Louis’_ onto the paper, handing them both back to Harry at the same time.

“All right, now can someone tell me how societal ‘norms’ affect childhood?” Professor Smith asks to the class at large.  

While a boy towards the front of the class answers the question, Harry looks at Louis and smiles before pointing to the front of the class, like ‘it’s time to pay attention now.’

Nodding, Louis rips off another piece of paper and writes, ‘ _coffee afterwards?’_ on it before Professor Smith starts putting up the slides for their topic today. Something like nerves twists in Louis’ gut. Which is strange, he’s not usually a nervous person.

Harry stares at the small piece of notebook paper, biting his very pink bottom lip. Turning to look at Louis, he has the tiniest hint of a blush gracing his Snow White complexion, and nods.

Louis’ tummy flutters with excitement. Smiling back, he clicks his pen and actually pays attention for the whole duration of the lecture.

 

“Wait, so why’d you transfer?” Louis asks Harry.

They’re currently sitting in the warmest and best café – in Louis’ opinion – that’s on campus. It’s one of those stereotypical ones with warm drinks and pastries because Uni students don’t have spare cash unless is comes to caffeine and sweets that are high in sugar.

Harry shrugs and blows on his hot chocolate, extra whipped cream per his request. “It wasn’t bad, my professors were all pretty great but I just didn’t like it.” He shrugs again and finally takes a sip of his drink. When he pulls it away from his mouth he has a whipped cream moustache.

Louis tries to suppress his laugh into the back of his hand. “Love, you’ve got, “ he motions with his other hand, pointing a finger to Harry’s top lip.

“What?” Harry asks, seemingly clueless as he brings a hand to his nose.

“No, no,” Louis lets his laugh escape him this time. It’s so light and so flirty it actually causes him to blush. “No, your lip. You’ve got cream there.”

“Oh,” Harry smiles, blushing to the tips of his ears before grabbing a napkin and swiping away the moustache.

“They just let you transfer in the middle of the semester though?” Louis asks, getting back onto the topic at hand.

“Well, Manchester was my second choice anyways. And my step-dad knows a few people.” He shrugs, again. Looking down into his cup, he seems unsure.

“Hey, it happens.” Louis takes a sip of his tea, peppermint flavor and all because it’s finally November and all things Pumpkin Spice are gone. “It took me almost a year just to figure out what I wanted to do. Then my mate got accepted here. I came to visit a few times, sat in on some of his classes. And, well,” Louis smiles, “here I am.”

“What are you studying?” Harry asks, hands wrapped around his styrofoam cup as if to keep them warm.

“Isn’t that the question?” Louis laughs. “Mostly Drama, Theatre and the like, but I’ve dabbled in so many electives I could probably get half a degree in at least two other fields.” He jokes, light-heartedly, it’s relatively true; he’s taken so many electives that have almost nothing to do with Drama or Theatre that he’s not even sure why he took them.

Harry lets out a loud bark of laughter, something that makes his cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment and has him covering his mouth with one of his hands.

Titling his head, Louis squints at Harry. “You’re rather quiet, you know?” Harry nods, shy again. “You’ve got a great laugh.” Louis ends with; it’s probably a strange thing to say since he and Harry have only known each other directly for, like, an hour. But hey, you’ve got to start somewhere.  

His blush deepening, Harry says, very quietly. “Thank you.”

“So, then, young Harold. What are _you_ studying?” Louis waggles his brows, only to get another chuckle out of Harry before he answers.

“I’m undecided at the moment, but I think want to go into Psychology.”

“Good choice, you learn lots of cool things in those classes.” Louis breaks off a piece of the snowflake shaped sugar cookie he got when they ordered their drinks and hands half to Harry; he smiles in thanks.

“Let me guess?” Harry takes a bite of the cookie, chews and swallows before a small, amused glint appears in his eyes. “You’ve taken a few psych classes?”

Louis laughs, unabashed, and warm all the way to his toes. “How’d you guess?”

“Just a feeling.” Harry shrugs, but the grin on his face is happy and joyful, like he’s happy he made Louis laugh, or maybe he’s just proud of his joke. Either way, Louis is positively smitten with the boy in front of him. He’s proper endearing and just so, freaking _cute_.

“We should make this like a thing, yeah?” Louis asks, picking up his drink and motioning towards it. “Grabbing a drink after class when we can or something.” His cheeks instantly heat up and for once he’s the one blushing and not Harry.

“Sure. I’d really like that.” Harry smiles and nudges Louis’ foot under the table; he nudges back.

“Good, because I don’t know who else I would share sugar cookies with.” Louis pouts, cinematically of course.

Harry rolls his eyes in, dare Louis say, a fond manner.

And well, from that moment on Louis and Harry are pretty much inseparable.

❊

“Zayn, I have to _go_. Will you _please_ hurry the fuck up.” Louis knocks on the bathroom door for the eighth time.

“Mate, will you hold on a second,” Zayn says for the _ninth_ time, even more annoyed than the eighth time he said it.

Louis is this close to just knocking again when Zayn finally opens the door, steam falling out behind him from the shower he’s just taken.

“Just because Niall broke your bathroom doesn’t mean you get to takeover mine.” Louis crosses his arms over his chest.

Rolling his eyes, Zayn walks past Louis, sweats hanging on his hips and t-shirt sticking to him in odd places from where his skin must still be a little damp. “You’re just upset because you’re gonna be late seeing _Harry_.” Zayn teases.

Louis follows behind him, bathroom forgotten because he has a pride complex that needs protecting. “Okay, that is false.” He lies; it’s totally 100% true. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t like him like that?”

“As many times as it takes to convince yourself that you don’t,” Zayn says, the fucking bastard.

“I’m leaving.” Louis makes his way towards the door.

“Didn’t you have to use the loo?” Zayn asks, voice dry as he switches on Louis’ Xbox.

Huffing, Louis quickly uses the toilette, sprays a little hairspray in his hair and then leaves with a “Don’t go fucking about on my account again! Use your own!”

 

Louis and Harry have graduated from getting coffee together to now either studying together, or getting lunch together, or a combination of the two.

It really only took about 3 times, including that first time, for Louis to ask Harry to go to lunch with him that following day, and then that turned into them studying together and now here they are doing both.

Is this how relationship progress works? Louis shrugs, who knows.

“Can you believe I’m late because I couldn’t get into my own bathroom?” Louis says. He slides into their usual booth in the back of the small pub they go to.

Harry chuckles and moves his bag from atop the table to next to him. “You locked yourself out of your own bathroom?”

“Nah, my mate. Our other friend, who he rooms with, broke their bathroom so apparently they now think it’s okay to hijack mine.” Louis runs a hand over his fringe, moving a few pieces out of his eyes. “I don’t mind. I just didn’t really want to be late.” He blushes, voice cracking on the last word. God dammit.

Harry reaches over and pats Louis’ hand. “It’s all right, Lou. You’re really not even late.”

“Still,” Louis mutters.

For some reason every time Louis hangs out with Harry his insides get all jumbled and he thinks the smallest mistake could change their whole friendship. It’s a very strange feeling. He’s _never_ felt like that before, he’s never been cautious about his actions because he’s always been unmistakably confident in them but with Harry he always has a little bit of self-doubt, or worry.

Okay, Tomlinson, this really isn’t the time for a breakdown.

“Have you started that paper for Smith yet?” Louis asks.

“No,” Harry pouts, his powder pink bottom lip jutting out and his vibrant green eyes going wide. “I have no idea what to write about.”

“Me either, babe.” And oops. “I hate writing essays,” Louis says, quickly just to cover himself. Fuck.

Harry’s smile is something that’s small, and his blush is barely visible but Louis always notices it. “They’re not too bad once you know what you want to write about though.”

“I guess,” Louis says and before he can say anything else their waitress comes over and asks for their order, which never changes, and then leaves with a nod.

“How about we take a break from coursework today?” Louis asks, fiddling with the wrapper from his straw. (Harry had already ordered both of their drinks before Louis got here. And the fact the he knows Louis’ drink order _doesn’t_ make his insides warm, he swears.)

Harry smiles like he knows something Louis doesn’t as he nods his head and puts away his notebook.

“What?” Louis asks, curious bubbles inflating in his chest. Harry is just so freaking attractive and cute and just _everything_. There are times when they’re together where Louis honestly doesn’t know how he handles him because he’s so dorky, and quirky and has the weirdest sense of humor that has Louis doubling over in genuine laughter every time.

They’ve only properly known each other about two weeks now but Harry still manages to warm up Louis’ insides, even when they’re outside in the cold and rainy weather. Once, when they were walking to the café after class Harry saw Louis shivering in his jacket, so he took off his own beanie and shoved it over Louis’ head.

God, Louis gets fuzzy and pink-cheeked just thinking about it.

“You do realise,” Harry starts off slowly, “we haven’t actually done coursework together in like a week right?” he asks, casually.

“Oh.” Louis didn’t notice that, can’t notice anything else when Harry’s there in front of him, or next to him. “We haven’t?” He tilts his head like a dog would when you talk to it.

“Not really, no,” Harry replies quietly. “I don’t mind. I like hanging out with you. I just wasn’t sure you noticed.” He laughs nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Louis fish mouths for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say because now that he really thinks about it he probably has said the line ‘how about we don’t do any coursework today’ like 8 times in 6 different ways.

Shrugging, Louis rolls up the wrapper of his straw into ball and then throws it so it lands down the dip of Harry’s shirt. “Well, Curly. I like hanging out with you too.” He winks, because even though he’s a bubbling, fuzzy, nervous wreck at the moment he can still be a cheeky little fuck. “I promise next time we can actually do some studying or whatever.”

“Good, because I wanted to take you somewhere tonight anyways.” Harry says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh, you did?” Louis asks, challenging.

This is one thing that Louis has noticed about Harry since their first little café outing. He can go from completely shy and blushing to cheeky and confident in a couple of seconds. He’s been letting out his cheekier side as of late, so Louis hopes it’s because he’s finally comfortable enough around Louis to do so.

“Yeah, but you’re not allowed to know until we get there.” Harry dimples, which right, did Louis ever mention how Harry has _dimples_. Deep ones too, they’re like moon craters but on Harry’s sunny face.

If Harry wasn’t looking directly at Louis right now, Louis is about 110% sure he would have his chin in his hand and he would be sighing. God, he’s such a mess for this boy, and they’ve barely known each other a month.

For some odd reason Louis can feel his cheeks heating up and most likely going pink, probably because Harry has a surprise for him. Goodness gracious Louis is a fool for Harry.

“All right,” Louis says softly, smiling genuinely.

 

Turns out Harry’s surprise was to take Louis to the ice skating rink that’s downtown from their Uni.

Also turns out that Harry is a pretty good skater. Currently, he’s skating all around the track, going backwards, trying to do spins like in the Olympics. He’s such a dork; it warms Louis’ heart.

“Slow it down, H. I don’t want to fall and break something.” Louis tries to laugh, but he is seriously nervous and a little scared since the only thing supporting his weight are two fucking kitchen knives attached to boots. 

Harry skates around Louis’ stationary figure on the ice, like a shark getting ready to attack their prey; Louis rolls his eyes. Harry waggles his eyebrows and wiggles his fingers motioning for Louis to follow him on the ice.

“It’s just like roller blading.” Like Louis already didn’t think of that.

“Of course it is.” Louis mutters. He skirts a little forward on the blades and tries to grab at Harry’s coat for stability, but Harry skates backwards. Louis huffs and follows him, each time reaching out and trying to get a grip on Harry’s peacoat but he just. won’t. stay. still.

“Come _on_.” Louis whines, pouting his bottom lip. He’s moved a few inches, maybe even a whole foot but it’s honestly only a matter of time before he falls and breaks his nose.

Harry laughs, making his whole body shake and his eyes close. Which is exactly the opportunity that Louis needs to lunge forward and finally grab onto Harry’s coat.

Bad idea.

“Oh fuck,” Louis says.

He knows they’re going down before he even feels himself lose his balance. It could either be in the shock in Harry’s eyes or because he felt his skate wobble. Either way, he and Harry are now tumbling onto the ice rink.

Louis doesn’t even get a chance to tell Harry he told him so because Harry is already laughing like a total buffoon.

“Hey!” Louis sits up and slaps his shoulder. “Don’t laugh!” he says petulantly.

“You should’ve seen your face, mate!” Harry laughs some more.

Fucking hell, Louis loves it when Harry laughs. It makes his whole face scrunch up into this cute little expression that just makes Louis feel as if he’s bundled up in his favorite blanket and watching his favorite movies ever.

Huffing, Louis tries to stand but he can barely get his balance back so he pouts, for the hundredth time that night. He plops back down onto the ice, which is when Harry finally takes pity on him and stands up, hand outstretched for Louis to take.

“Thanks,” Louis mumbles, ignoring the fluttering in his fucking stomach. God, what is going on with him tonight? Like, seriously.

Apparently Harry has chosen to hold Louis’ hand hostage within his own hand because he’s still holding it as Louis catches his balance again. And then, he starts to skate them around the ice at a snail’s speed. Hand in fucking hand.

“Have you never gone ice skating before?” Harry asks, looking over to Louis with curious green eyes. They’re a deep green under the night sky, and even though there are bright artificial lights shining down on them and lighting up the rink, Louis still thinks they’re a deep enough green to match the Slytherian Crest that graces the house’s robes.

Louis blinks and quickly looks away, licking his lips. “A couple times when I was really young.” He shrugs. “Stopped going after a while, though.”

Harry hums and lightly squeezes Louis’ hand, and for some reason that gives him the courage to look up into those jade eyes.

“Any particular reason?” Harry questions timidly, like he’s not sure he should ask.

“Not really. I think my mum just got really nervous after she saw some thing on the news about a kid breaking his head open when he fell.” He smiles, squeezing Harry’s hand, just because it’s there and he can.

Louis doesn’t elaborate on how ice-skating used to be his favorite thing when winter came around. Doesn’t give in to the ache in his chest at a broken tradition just because he was clumsy and had a paranoid mother.

“Ahh.” Harry pauses, almost considering. “My mum used to take me and my sister until I was about 10, but then _I_ almost broke a leg so we stopped.” He laughs.

Louis laughs too and follows Harry off of the rink and into the area where they can give back their rentals and put their regular shoes back on.

They walk back to the dorms with their hands shoved deep in their pockets, neither one of them sure if it’s okay for them to hold hands again like they were doing on the ice, since _technically_ Harry was just helping Louis skate without falling again.

Above them the sky is dark and grey, almost like it’s getting ready to snow but everyone knows it’s more likely to be rain than the former. The air is frigid and bitter on the tips of their ears and noses, making them sniffle and wish they had proper headgear – at least for their ears.

Harry’s dorm comes first on the streetlamp lit path that winds through their campus. It’s a huge cement building with the name ELIZABETH in metal letters above the door. Louis’ is the same, except his reads VICTORIA.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Harry asks, cheeks bitten red from the cold.

 _Of course_. Louis thinks because his life has someone become divided into two timespans: With Harry and Without Harry.

“Yeah, we’ll go for tea after class. Maybe we’ll actually get some coursework done this time.” Louis chuckles. He feels nervous all of sudden. His hands are sweating in the pockets of his denim jacket and he can’t stop shuffling his feet over the hard sidewalk.

“Yeah,” Harry nearly whispers. He looks like he’s contemplating something; his eyebrows are furrowed together with a distant look on his face.

A moment passes before he starts leaning towards Louis, giving him a million and a half heart attacks because he thinks Harry is about to kiss him. Fortunately – unfortunately? – he wraps his arms around Louis’ tiny, cold body and hugs him tight. It takes a couple of seconds for Louis to react, before slipping his own hands around Harry’s middle and snuggling into the warmth that’s emitting from his body.

The hug definitely lasts way longer than a dude bro hug should but Louis could not care any less because Harry’s warm and snuggly and doesn’t protest when Louis sneaks his freezing hands under his jacket so they’re pressed against his back, warming them up.

Sadly, they don’t stand their all night and freeze together, instead pulling away, both blushing like China dolls.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Louis smiles.

“Yeah,” Harry says, slightly dazed, before turning and walking up the steps to his dorm.

Louis watches him walk in because he’s _that_ friend, before walking away towards his own dorm.

And if he spends his whole walk plus the time it takes him to fall asleep thinking if this entire night was a date or not, and whether or not he did want Harry to kiss him, well, then that’s for him to know and no one to find out.

❊

Louis is nervous, like _really_ nervous.

His leg will not stop bouncing, even when he politely asks his brain to make it stop. He really has nothing to worry about, other than that fact that Zayn is about to meet Harry.

“Mate, calm down.” Zayn presses a few buttons on the Xbox controller and makes his avatar do a kick-flip.

“Please don’t say anything.” Louis pleads, he bites at the corner of his thumb nail.

“What’d’ya mean?” Zayn asks, not looking away from the television.

“Like, don’t make a comment about me ‘liking him.’” Louis air quotes before dropping his hands into his lap and looking down at them, rubbing over the skin on his wrist.

Zayn rolls his eyes and pauses the game so he can look over to Louis with a deadpan expression. “Now, I do love to embarrass you, but I promise I won’t say anything about that. Especially since you seem to haven’t figured it out yet.”

Louis groans internally and throws himself back against the couch. He’s spent enough time over the last 4 days since their maybe ice skating date wondering if he really does like Harry. He really can’t figure it out; at times he thinks maybe he does. Like when they’re sitting together in Sociology and Harry will glance over to him with a smile when Professor Smith says something funny, or each and every time Harry hugs him before they depart. There really is no other way to explain the warmth that curls in his tummy when he does it either.

But then there are other times when Louis is alone in his bed, thinking about it and he comes to the conclusion that he’s just thinking about it too much and paying too close of attention to Harry when he’s with him. His brain is a little confused at the moment.

Even if he _did_ like Harry, there’s no knowing if Harry even likes him back. That very thought makes his chest ache though, so he puts it to rest. (And no he doesn’t look into that either.)

“You all right?” Zayn asks, waving a tattoo covered hand in front of Louis’ face.

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Louis mumbles.

“Good, because someone’s just knocked.” Zayn smirks, knowing.

Louis ignores Zayn – and the racing of his heart – in favor for getting up off of the couch to get the door for Harry. He doesn’t pull it open right away; he needs to prepare himself. He really has _nothing_ to worry about, but maybe the fact that he is nervous should say something too.

Metaphors, symbolism, similes, you know all that writing crap they teach you in grade school.

After taking a deep breath, Louis opens the door to a dimpling Harry. His cheeks are red from the cold winter air, and he’s wearing a beanie that Louis’ never seen before.

“Did you get a new beanie?” he asks, moving out of the way and letting Harry slide over the threshold and into his little flat.

Nodding, Harry takes the bright, coral colored beanie off of his head and lightly places it over Louis’ own fringe, making him blush and quickly turn away to lead Harry into the living room to introduce him to Zayn.

“Zayn Harry, Harry Zayn.” Louis motions his hand back and forth between them.

“Hey, mate.” Zayn nods, and curses at the TV when his player falls off of his skateboard.

“Hi,” Harry says, his shy demeanor present.

“Do you want something to drink, Haz?” Louis asks softly, placing a hand on Harry’s arm to both calm and comfort him.

“Please.” Harry’s lips turn up into a thankful smile and he quickly squeezes Louis’ forearm before shimmying out of his jacket and sitting on the far side of the sofa.

Making his way into the kitchen, Louis grabs three water bottles from the fridge and those little powder packets that you can pour into you water to make them flavored, before heading back out.

He throws the mango packet at Zayn and sets his water bottle on the table, and then hands the strawberry one to Harry with a smile. He sits down on the sofa in the spot between Hary and Zayn, right in the middle.  

“There’s other kinds if you don’t want that one. I just figured since you like strawberry jolly ranchers so much, you’d ya know.” Louis fumbles for the words, he has no idea what he’s saying right now. His whole stomach is in knots with how stupid he sounds and he wants to punch Zayn in the fucking balls because he can physically feel him trying to hold in a laugh from this spot next to him.

“No, this is good, Lou. Thanks.” Harry smiles, obviously detecting Louis’ nerves, or maybe he just sees the bright fucking red blush on his face.

Louis nods and turns towards the TV and watches Zayn complete his twelfth mission of the day.

“So, Harry what’re you studying?” Zayn asks.

Sighing, Louis relaxes into the back of the couch and lets the two of them have their small talk before he jumps in and makes a joke about Zayn’s English major.

“Yeah, okay Shakespeare.” Zayn jabs back, making Harry laugh with his head thrown back, curls fanning the back of the sofa.

Louis’ gut twists hotly. (Another thing he’s going to ignore, and not going to pinpoint as jealousy.)

Thankfully they all fall into easy chatter and banter after that. Making jokes with each other and Zayn eventually turns off the Xbox in turn for putting Futurama on Netflix. Getting a subscription to that lovely company was the best thing Louis has ever done, probably.

“Do Fry and Leela every end up getting together?” Harry asks after they finish another episode.

Louis shrugs and wiggles over so he’s almost tucked under Harry’s arm. He’s been slowly making his way there since the first episode they watched and now he’s about two inches from being there; Zayn keeps side eyeing him every time he does it, but Louis just ignores him like he does with every other time Zayn tries to intervene in his life.

“Not sure.” Zayn starts and clicks on the next episode in the series. While it’s loading he continues, “I think Leela just needs to realise she likes Fry before they actually get together.”

Louis has to restrain himself with everything he has in order to not punch Zayn in the nuts right now.

“Hey, what time is it?” Zayn asks, randomly.

“Um, I don’t know? Why don’t you check that thing you have that’s called a mobile?” Louis says sarcastically, smiling when he sees Harry suppressing a laugh into the back of his hand.

“Fuck off, Louis. I have to meet Liam and Niall for,” he pauses, “dinner.” Zayn is lying and he knows that Louis knows he is.

“All right, have fun. Don’t choke on any dicks.” Louis waves when Zayn flips him off.

“Nah, mate! You’re the one that shouldn’t!” Zayn yells before opening the door.

“I like it!” Louis yells just before the door falls shut.

And then, it gets very, _very_ quiet within the flat. Louis hopes it has nothing to do with his comment.

“Wanna order in?” Harry asks, blinking like he’s not all there.

“Sure. Chinese sound good?” Louis suggests, getting up to get the menu from the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah, whatever’s fine. Hey, Lou where’s your toilette?” Harry shuffles behind Louis.

“Down the hall to the right.” Louis points behind him.

“Thanks,” he hears Harry mutter.

He grabs the menu from the drawer he keeps it in and starts to flick through it until Harry comes back and slides into the kitchen; he looks nervous.

“You all right?” Louis asks, worry bubbling up in his chest. He keeps his cool, his face is calm and he flips over the menu like he doesn’t know what he’s getting.

“Yeah.” Harry coughs, and Louis doesn’t even need to look at him to know that he’s doing that thing where he swoops his fringe in front of his face and shakes it out before pushing it back up and off his forehead.

Glancing over to him, Louis notices that he is definitely not okay.

“Are you sure?” Louis dismisses the menu and walks cautiously over to Harry, he doesn’t want to ask what he’s about to but there is literally nothing else that happened to make Harry possibly so nervous. “Is it the dick comment? I’m sorry if that, like, bothered you.” Louis keeps eye contact with Harry before he quickly looks away, getting nervous himself.

Harry’s eyes go wide. “God, no. Never that.” He laughs a little unsure. “Don’t apologise for who you are, and I would be a hypocrite if I said that it bothered me.”

“Oh.” Louis pauses and just lets that register. He didn’t even have the whole ‘maybe Harry’s straight’ crisis but at least now he knows he’s into dick. “I wasn’t. I mean, apologising for who I am. But I also didn’t, don’t ever, want to make you uncomfortable around me.” Louis clarifies.

Nodding, Harry steps forward, and for a moment Louis thinks he’s about to kiss him but instead he just lunges and starts attacking Louis’ sides.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Louis wheezes as Harry tickles him; he’s super ticklish.

Harry doesn’t let up, just digs his fingers deeper into Louis’ sides until he physically hurts and cannot breath for anything.

“Oh god,” Louis backs away from him and leans against the counter. “What’d you do that for!?” he shrieks happily.

“It got too serious in here.” He pauses and then adds a little more shyly, “Plus, you’re cute when you laugh.” Harry looks down at his shoes before looking up again, coy.

Rolling his eyes, Louis steps forward and cups Harry’s cheek. He considers kissing him, just leaning in and connecting their lips until their moving together but instead he licks the tip of his nose and runs back into the living room.

“Grab the menu!” he shouts.

They end up ordering too much food and stealing each other’s as they sit on the couch and watch countless episodes of Futurama. They laugh and make a minimal mess.

It’s fun, and relaxing, and Louis has never felt so comfortable around someone who he’s known less than two months. And he knows he says that a lot but its just so, undeniably true that he can’t help but keep repeating himself.

Somewhere between them feeding each other with chopsticks, Louis dropping lo mien noodles all down Harry’s shirt, and Leela finally saying yes to a date with Fry, they end up cuddled on the couch together: Harry sprawled out in one of Louis’ bigger shirts and Louis laying on top of him with on of his hands buried in Harry’s curls and massaging his scalp.

And then, somehow, Louis doesn’t know, they end up falling asleep together, tangled around each other.

Louis can say, with confidence, that he’s never slept better in his entire life.

❊

It’s not that much of a surprise when he realises it.

There’s two weeks left of the semester when he does.

He’s sitting in the library, staring out of one of the windows at the – unsurprisingly – grey December sky. He’s bundled up in one of Harry’s jumpers that he stole from him when he went to his flat yesterday, it smells like cinnamon and apples, of course; Louis snuggles into it.

Realistically he’s supposed to be studying for his finals, but he’s not. Instead he’s staring out of the window, like already stated, while simultaneously glancing down at his phone that sits next to one of his Drama textbooks.

The last text he sent Harry reads as follows:

_haz, make it snow for me :( i want it to snow_

He knows he won’t get a reply for at least another 20 minutes because Harry’s in History at the moment, but that doesn’t stop him from insistently checking if he has.

Sighing, he looks away from the window and buries his head into the arms of his – Harry’s – sweater and inhales, deeply, like when the doctor asks you to ‘take deep breaths’ and then moves the stethoscope over your chest and back to check your lungs and heart.

If a doctor were listening to Louis’ heartbeat right now he’d hear it start to slowly speed up as he exhales, because that’s when _it_ hits him, like a fucking wet sock, or a cliché ton of bricks.

It’s really not that surprising, deep down he _knew_ he liked Harry more than a friend but he sort of didn’t want to accept it up until he was in too deep to ignore it anymore. And, now, apparently he is at that point.

You see, Louis used to be terrified, absolutely horrified, of feelings or liking someone. He hasn’t really been in many relationships and the ones he was in didn’t end badly, sure he was a bit heartbroken once or twice but he got over it eventually. But once he saw this quote (or maybe it was just someone’s existential crisis, that would make more sense) scribbled onto the back of a bathroom stall that read, “ _You either marry or break up with the person you’re with.”_ and it fucked him up big time.

That was about two years ago, maybe a bit longer but slowly over the years he’s gotten over that fear, learned that love or just simply the adoration that comes along with friendship is something to cherish and learn from, even if it can be fleeting.

So whether that was the reason Louis didn’t want to admit to himself his real, proper, feelings for Harry or just because he knows this feels so differently than any other time he’s liked someone before, he’s not sure. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

He does know one thing though; he’d rather be with Harry for however long they could have than never be with him at all.

His phones buzzes on the table, making one of the girls at a nearby table look up. It’s Harry.

_i’d fly us to the nearest place where it’s snowing if it’d make you happy xx_

Louis smiles, heart stuttering in his chest, without any context he replies.

_i’d give you the moon_

❊

Louis loves December for many reasons.

The obvious one is his birthday, and the second most obvious one would be Christmas.

December is just like one long period of procrastinating and a time when everyone, even the workaholics, don’t want to do anything. It’s an amazing experience. And if you ignore the first two weeks of cramming for finals, the crazies who go Christmas shopping 3 days before the holiday, then it’s nearly perfect.

Louis isn’t heading home for another week and a half, but his last final was yesterday. He would usually spend this week and a half bothering Niall or lounging around with Zayn, but this year he has Harry to keep him company.

Unfortunately, Harry has banned Louis from coming anywhere near his flat for the next day because Harry has what is probably his hardest final – according to him – tomorrow and needs to spend as much time as he can studying.

Sighing, Louis resumes the game of FIFA he was playing, and has been playing for about 3 hours now.

“Hey,” Zayn says, walking into Louis’ flat like he lives there, which really it does seem that way doesn’t it?

Louis grunts, and passes the virtual ball to one of his virtual players and tries for a goal.

“No Harry today?” Zayn calls as he walks into the kitchen. Louis can hear him open the fridge and take out one of the beers in there.

“He’s banned me from seeing him.” Louis both pauses the game and pouts as Zayn walks back into the room, sitting next to him and handing him a beer.

Zayn tilts his head and lets a soft smile spread over it.

Scrunching his face up in confusion, and a little bit in disgust because he thinks he knows where this is going, Louis cautiously questions, “What?”

“You’ve finally figured it out.” Zayn sighs and relaxes into the back of the couch like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He snatches the controller from where it’s resting on Louis’ lap and resumes Louis’ match.

Louis doesn’t even fight it, he doesn’t have the energy to, plus living in a world where everyone, or at least his mates, know he likes Harry is a win to him.

Taking a swig of his beer, Louis whispers, “Yeah.”

“Happy for you babes.” Zayn replies, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice.

While Zayn plays FIFA and eventually switches it to Arkham City, Louis sits back on the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders because even though he loves December he’s not entirely too fond of the cold unless he has a curly haired prince to snuggle up to.

He eventually dozes off, because he’d rather sleep than be awake right now, anyways. And if that’s because he can’t see Harry, then only he has to know. 

❊

Just because Louis knows he can, the minute he sees Harry walking out of the History building and towards him, tired but bright smile on his face, he runs and jumps so he’s clinging to Harry’s front like a koala.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat, instantly wrapping his long arms around Louis body to hold him up. “Well, hello,” he giggles.

Louis kisses Harry’s cheek, which right, they don’t usually do that but whatever. “I’ve missed you so much!” he wails dramatically.

Rolling his eyes, Harry, sadly, sets Louis back down onto the pavement but immediately tangles their gloved fingers together and starts walking them towards his dorm.

“You saw me yesterday morning for breakfast, Lou,” he says exasperated.

Even though Louis’ cheeks are numb from the cold he can still feel them heating up from the blush that’s settling upon them. Turns out, when he really lets himself like someone and ignores every bad ‘what if’ thought, he becomes extremely clingy and definitely _not_ obvious about it.

“So,” he says in lieu of something sappy and along the lines of never wanting to spend a moment without Harry. Jesus, is this what having a crush used to be like?

Laughing, Harry smiles towards Louis, his cheeks already red from the cold and eyes vibrant against the muted colors that December – winter in general, really – brings. “It’s all right, I missed you too.”

Louis’ heart fizzles in his chest so much so that he has to tuck his chapped lips in on each other in order to stop the smile that’s trying to break out there. Ever since he’s come to the relisation that he likes Harry it has been increasingly hard to control himself. He always wants to be touching or poking at Harry, teasing him and making him laugh, and god, don’t even get him _started_ on how badly he wants to kiss him.

He’s come this close to doing it too, about 80 thousand times. The thought crosses his mind about 9 times when they’re hanging out, and who even knows how many minutes he spends staring at Harry’s berry colored lips.

When they finally make it to Harry’s flat, Louis immediately kicks off his shoes, jumps on Harry’s bed and snuggles under the covers that smell of nothing but Harry, and that’s one of Louis’ most favorite things.

Burrowing into the coziness that is Harry’s bed, Louis waits for the inevitable dip of the mattress that means Harry’s there, and waits for him to sneak into Louis‘ cocoon with him.

“Hiya,” Harry chirps.

“Hi,” Louis whispers, softly, almost shyly.

They’re so close to each other. Louis can almost count all of the eyelashes and light freckles that dust over Harry’s cheeks. This is something that they’ve just started doing: sleepovers, and well nap-overs.

Snuggling and cuddling is a big thing too. Louis loves being wrapped up in Harry, and Harry loves being wrapped up in Louis. There’s no other sense of grand security than there is when you sleep next to, or tangled up in their case, someone you trust.

It’s so quiet in Harry’s room, the only sounds are the muted conversations from outside and the occasional honk of a horn from the main road. Louis’ heartbeat is probably the loudest thing in their little bubble; he wonders if Harry can hear it.

Harry closes his eyes making his eyelashes fan out in little wisps; Louis’ heart clenches. God, he’s about to combust because of _eyelashes_. He’s in so deep.

Swallowing nervously, Louis says, voice cracking, “Hey, Haz?”

Humming, Harry cracks open his sleepy green eyes.

“Wanna go see a film with me tomorrow?” Louis watches Harry’s face closely, watches the way the corners of his eyes slowly scrunch up as a happy, soft, smile breaks out over his face.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” Harry answers, reaching out and placing a warm hand on Louis’ hip, squeezing.

Gulping, Louis makes sure to breathe through his nose, the nerves making him almost shake. “All right, it’s a date then.” He smiles shyly and hopes Harry knows he’s not joking.

He hears Harry’s small but quick intake of breath, he would call it a gasp but that’s too dramatic for how soft the action actually is. Harry squeezes Louis’ hip again, making every last nerve he had about it seep out.

So, Louis falls asleep, snuggled against Harry’s chest breathing in the distinct smell that is _Harry_ and with the knowledge that he and his favorite boy ever, have a date tomorrow to see one of his favorite Christmas films ever made.

❊

“What’s the film called again?” Harry asks.

“ _It’s A Wonderful Life.”_ Louis answers happily.

The sky above them is, for once, clear, letting them see the inky blue sky dotted with falsely twinkling stars. The air is cold and bitter for mid-December but at least Louis has a beanie to keep his ears warm, gloves and Harry’s hand to keep his hands warms. Even his tummy and chest feel warm when we he catches Harry stealing looks at him.

He’s unbelievably giddy and just _so_ happy right now. He doesn’t even know how to explain the feeling that’s in his chest. It honestly almost feels like he’s high, or intoxicated with something, but he’s not languid and droopy eyed, he’s energetic and bouncy, goodness he feels like he could take over a small planet.

“Oh, I think I’ve seen that before?” Harry says unsurely.

Louis shrugs and starts swinging their hands between them. Oh, wait, did he mention that Harry has a _bun_ in his hair right now. Like his actual hair, that brown curly mess that sits on his head, is neatly tucked up on the top of his head in a little bundle of Louis’ death. Honest to Santa he almost died when he got to Harry’s dorm and saw that.

“It’s good. My favorite Christmas film, actually.” Louis smiles at nothing.

“Really? How come?”

“You’re gonna laugh.” Louis ducks his head.

“I promise I won’t,” Harry replies sweetly, even kissing Louis’ temple.

“My family had a lot of traditions growing up, but just like everything does with age, things start to change and those traditions changed or stopped.” He shrugs and looks both ways before tugging Harry across the street to the small, old-fashioned movie theater. “So I sort of wanted to start my own, mostly for myself ya know?”

He looks to Harry who nods.

Louis still remembers when he saw the dirty, wet flier lying on the ground when he walked out of his last final during his first year. He was so relieved to be done, and just wanted to do something to celebrate, even if that did mean going to see film by himself.

“I started this my first year here. Decided to go again last year and make it a proper thing. It’s sort of comforting in that I always have something to look forward too. Even if I did used to go by myself.” Louis bumps their shoulders together, smile already pulled like an elastic on his face.

Harry’s face is soft and so sweet, he probably looks like a flower, or some type of collectable doll. “I’m glad to be apart of it, then.” He smiles, kissing Louis’ forehead.

“Me too,” Louis mumbles.

Louis buys their tickets from the same white haired man he always does. He smiles at him, and blushes when the old man winks at him and then pointedly looks at Harry.

“Just a warning,” Louis begins as he leads Harry into the half-empty theater and towards the back where he usually sits, “I never fail to cry during this movie.”

Harry laughs adoringly, like ‘I wouldn’t expect anything else’ and pats his own shoulder.

And, see, this is one of those moments where Louis has the sudden urge to just kiss Harry. He just wants to lean forward and kiss Harry’s stupid face until Harry is giggling and breathless and has to tickle Louis to get him to stop.

His heart inflates just thinking about it. He could spend hours lying in Harry’s bed and just snogging his face off until they’re either too tired or too hungry and have to stop to be functioning human beings.

Sighing, Louis leans back in his chair, before deciding against it and just leaning his head on Harry’s shoulder and waiting patiently for the old, black and white film to start.

 

During the film when George tells Marry that he’d give her the moon, Harry squeezes Louis’ hand, like he finally _gets_ it.

 

“So, did you like it?” Louis asks when they’re walking back to Harry’s flat.

As promised he cried, not once, but three times and each time Harry cuddled him closer and let him use his shoulder as a tissue.

“Yeah, I did actually.” Harry smiles, stopping momentarily before blinking multiple times like there is something in his eye.

“You all right there, love?”

Harry looks up to the sky and blinks some more before finally whispering, “It’s snowing.”

Sure enough when Louis raises his head and looks up at the sky there are thick, grey clouds there, and small snowflakes falling to the ground. It starts off slowly but with the time that they spend just standing there and looking up in awe, letting the snowflakes stick to their hair and tips of their noses, it starts to come down heavily.

“I love the snow,” Louis says in one breath.

They spend the rest of their walk in silence, letting the warm yellow light of the streetlamps reflect off their skin and the snowflakes fall onto their cheeks, melting almost instantly.

Harry’s hand is solid in Louis’ own and he can’t help but focus on the weight and warmth of it. On how real and present Harry is next to him, in his life. For some reason he can see them doing this next year, and the year after that. Hell, he’ll do this with Harry for all of the years he has left.

That overwhelming feeling, _need_ , to kiss Harry hits him again, and this time Louis knows that it’s going to happen; it’s too strong for him to control it anymore.

“You coming up?” Harry asks when they get to his building. The metal letters above his door are getting dusted in snow.

Louis tilts his head and just looks at Harry; blatantly just stares at him.

He takes in how Harry’s bun is a little loose from the wind and from him leaning it against Louis’ own head in the movie theater. There are snowflakes glittering everywhere on Harry’s porcelain skin making his cheekbones sparkle and eyes gleam as the lamplights reflect against his green irises.

Louis had already made up his mind before they even got here, but now he’s committed to kissing Harry. He doesn’t think another moment, steps closer to Harry and watches as his, the boy who started off as a stranger, eyes go wide before leaning in and tilting his head up to capture his lips.

It’s slow, and sweet, and just _so_ gentle; it’s honey and a candle’s glow personified.

Harry’s lips are warm and smooth because he applies chapstick like every hour, and it’s just so good and heart achingly awakening that when Louis pulls away he hides his face in Harry’s neck and has to hold back a sob from everything he _feels_ right now.

Nothing but silence blankets them as they stand there outside of Harry’s building. Louis is hiding in Harry’s neck and Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ petit frame.

“So that happened,” Louis deadpans.

“I’m glad,” Harry says, a tone of determination in his voice.

“Yeah?” Louis asks nervously but there are bubbles filling his chest. He finally removes himself from his home in Harry’s neck and looks into his eyes.

“Yeah.” He nods, bright as the sun smile gracing his sweet lips.

“Good.” Louis pecks them once, just because he finally _can_.

Harry pecks back and grips Louis’ hand, tugging him towards the entrance and running them up the stairs. Louis can’t help but laugh manically; each and every bubble in his chest pops and escapes through his lips when they turn another corner.

Finally, when they make it to Harry’s room, Louis tugs Harry down onto the bed and whispers, “Now that I can, I’m gonna snog you until you fall asleep.” He giggles, _fucking giggles_ like a child before attacking Harry’s neck with lovebites.

“No objections here,” Harry squeaks.

Louis kisses Harry until he can’t feel his lips anymore and until it’s like they’re one person melting into Harry’s mattress. He kisses him until the sun starts to rise and Harry’s eyes start to fall closed.

He wraps himself around Harry so that this time Harry is the one pressed to his chest and neck, drifting off to sleep.

Harry mumbles something in his sleep and Louis tries not to giggle. He’s never felt so happy in his entire life; he can feel it down to his core, burning and burning, heating up his skin and warming every vein in his body.

As his eyes drift closed, he thinks, no, he _knows_ he’d give Harry the moon _and_ the whole entire fucking universe.

❊❊❊

Louis and Harry keep Louis’ tradition alive and strong through their years of university.

They never miss a screening of _It’s A Wonderful Life_ no matter what may come up. Even well after they’re both graduated and living together in some quaint flat in the middle of Manchester itself, they still make time to make their way to the same movie theater to see the movie.

It’s not even Louis’ tradition anymore; it’s _their_ tradition.  

Louis is so committed to this, to everything that Harry makes him feel, that he proposes at the young age of 23, just drops on one knee right in front of the theater one day and pops the question.

(His original plan was to wait until Christmas but he’s impatient as hell and the moment just felt _so_ right when Harry leaned in and kissed his forehead, whispered some quote from the movie itself into his hair.)

If there’s one thing that Harry has taught Louis through the years it’s that traditions are meaningful to one, but when they’re shared with someone else, especially someone you _love_ with all of your heart and existence, they mean a million times more.

- _fin_

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated! .x 
> 
> p.s i wanted to keep at least 60% of my original idea for this fic from the first time i wrote it, and basically that one was called 'i never wanted to settle down' so that's why when louis has his little realisation i say the whole thing about him being 'scared' of feelings and what not. any questions, don't be afraid to ask! haha
> 
> p.s.s i'm not comparing l/h in this to george and mary i just love that scene and the quote. 
> 
> & p.s.s.s 'crash into me' by dave matthews band came on shuffle when i wrote the kiss so yeah


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